


Timeless

by Rosie_Rues



Series: The Rising Storm [17]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1979, Community: dogdaysofsummer, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-13
Updated: 2006-07-13
Packaged: 2017-10-22 19:17:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosie_Rues/pseuds/Rosie_Rues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trinity Hall, Cambridge, July 1979. On a summer afternoon, Cambridge really is the most beautiful city in the world (summer makes up for the other nine months of dismal austerity).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Timeless

Midway through the afternoon Remus gave up and slipped out of the low-ceiling library. He passed Sirius on the way out, and paused to murmur, “Need some fresh air. Coming?”

Sirius, leatherbound books piled higher than his head, mumbled at him and flapped his hand vaguely.

Remus shrugged, a little slighted, and made his way outside.

The sun was bright, making the low library buildings and the lawn beyond seem to float in the buttery light. He could feel it warm on his face, teasing his worries away, and he shook his shoulders out, sighing. He enjoyed research, no denying that, but he didn’t have Sirius’ ability to lose all sense of time and place whilst on the trail of a mystery.

There was a low wall at the end of the gardens, and he could see a bridge rising from the lane outside the college. The term had finished, and it was quiet, the lawns empty and only a rare cyclist soaring over the bridge.

“Those of us who live here often boast that in the summer Cambridge is the most beautiful city in the world,” a wheezy voice said by his shoulder.

Remus jumped and looked down to see Dumbledore’s friend beaming up at him.

“It’s lovely,” he said politely.

The professor cackled. “You don’t need to humour me, boy. I’m far too old.”

“I’m not,” Remus protested, looking at the roses rambling up the walls of the library, and the lengthening shadows of the trees arching across the lawn.

“Have you found what you were seeking, hmm?” the old man said, stumping forward.

Remus shuffled awkwardly. “I’m just having a break.” He was sure you weren’t meant to admit such things to distinguished professors, even if they were friends of your ex-headmaster.

“Ah,” said the professor gloomily. “Nonetheless, you have been diligent. My undergraduates could learn much from your example.” He sighed dolefully. “Undergraduates.”

“Er,” said Remus. The gravel was crunching softly under his feet, but all else was quiet. There must have been traffic out there somewhere, or tourists wandering the old streets, but the walls muffled everything. As they’d entered college this morning, through the tunnel of the gate, the gentle silence had settled welcomingly around them.

“Have you found anything of use yet?” the professor asked, leading him up onto a terrace. On the other side of the low wall, well below the level of the college, the River Cam ran past. He could hear the voices of punters approaching from upstream, and the breeze was whispering through the trees on the opposite bank, making the leaves stir softly.

“I’m afraid not,” he said wearily, and tried not to think of the war worsening beyond this quiet place. “I think Dumbledore was more hopeful than optimistic.”

“A terrible thing, the horcrux,” the professor said, face sombre. “It is no wonder there is little written of it. It is not a path I would ever have considered myself.”

“The idea of immortality tempts many people,” Remus said, leaning on the warm wall.

The professor twinkled at him, reminding him unnervingly of Dumbledore. “My boy, what is a long life without happiness, and how can a man be happy with such a stain upon his soul?”

“I don’t think Voldemort wants to be happy,” Remus said.

The professor sighed. “Then I fear he will find immortality more wearisome than he anticipated.”

There was a thud of footsteps beside them, and Sirius leapt up onto the terrace, twirling a pencil between his fingers.

“You disappeared,” he said, blinking at Remus.

Remus, who had encountered Sirius in the throes of research before, bit back a sigh. “I needed some fresh air.”

“Ah,” Sirius said sagely. “Fresh air. Good thing. Is it afternoon yet?”

“Almost dinnertime,” Remus said, smiling apologetically at the professor. He had a vague feeling they were being rude.

The old man beamed at him. “I do hope you’ll join my wife and I for dinner. Perenelle does like meeting young people.”

“We’d be delighted,” Sirius said promptly, recalled to his manners. “We’re very grateful for your help, sir.”

The professor laughed. “Anything to help my old friend Albus, young Sirius. By the way, has anyone ever mentioned you have an uncanny resemblance to your uncle Corvus? He was up at Trinity Hall in the 1790s, you know.”

“Never seen a picture of the old boy,” Sirius said regretfully.

It was odd, Remus thought, how too many years in academia made people eccentric. You would have thought the old boy had met Corvus Black from his tone. He supposed it was easy to get fanciful, in a place that felt so hidden from the flow of time.

“Back to work, then, Moony?” Sirius asked cheerfully.

Remus, who could have done with a cup of tea, nodded slowly, and began to follow him back towards the library.

“Meet me at the lodge at six, boys,” the professor said, “and I’ll warn my dear wife to do her worst.”

Sirius was already disappearing through the doors, but Remus stopped to say, “Thank you very much, Professor Flamel. We’ll look forward to it.”

Then he too made his way back through the glow of the afternoon towards the low, quiet library.


End file.
